


There's A Learning Curve

by FereldenTurnip



Series: Of Saints & Soldiers (A/B/O verse) [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alpha Andy | Andromache, Alpha Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Alpha Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, Omega Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Omega Nile Freeman, POV Nile Freeman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FereldenTurnip/pseuds/FereldenTurnip
Summary: It’s just the two of them, no alphas this time, and Nile relaxes in his presence. Nicky lays out a sleeping bag, plumping it up in a comforting fashion. It makes her smile because that’s exactly what her mom would do when she was a kid. Her talent for nest making kept all the nightmares at bay.“For what it’s worth,” Nicky says, leaning over so he can look her in the eye. “We are glad to have you with us, Nile.” He wishes her a goodnight and leaves. Luckily, his calming omega scent still lingers. He smells like citrus, herbs, and a touch of gunpowder.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Of Saints & Soldiers (A/B/O verse) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974334
Comments: 22
Kudos: 303





	There's A Learning Curve

**Author's Note:**

> This the first fic in an A/B/O series retelling of the movie and more. Modern perspective follows Nile's POV, while the prequel follows Joe/Nicky's relationship through the medieval era. Rating will go up and tags will be added :) 
> 
> Special thank you to my amazing betas: [ Aqua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes) and [Avanie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avanie)!! You two are the best!! 
> 
> Shoutout to the All & More Discord Server for nurturing this behemoth and all my alpha/omega sex questions!

  
  
  
  


Another plane dips low over the fields on its way into Charles de Gaulle. The draft shakes the cemetery grounds and the ancient, dilapidated tombstones quiver. Some are knocked over and overgrown with vegetation. Regardless of an inconvenient airport, it still raises Nile’s hackles to see the Goussainville church in such blatant disrepair. She can’t help but thumb the golden cross around her neck and frown. The entire town reminds her of pictures of Chernobyl: a once vibrant city inexorably drained of life until only ghosts remained.

  
  


Andromache--Andy--strides through the tall grass with little awareness of the hallowed ground. Nile is more hesitant in her urge to be respectful of the dead beneath them. In fact, she’s been dubious for the entirety of this nightmare she’s found herself unable to escape from. Sure, Nile can compartmentalize her fears away when the going gets tough - it’s what she’s been trained to do - however boot camp never prepared her for immortality. If she weren’t so close to screaming, she’d laugh at the mental image of saying that to her bastard of a drill sergeant. 

  
  


So, she can’t help feeling a twinge of nervousness as Andy holds open a thick oak door for her.  _Out of the frying pan, into the fire_ . Nile takes a deep breath to center herself and enters. They’re in a long hallway, one with hexagonal tiles and an arched roof. Andy is patient and attentive--a strange set of qualities for an alpha to have. She’d suspect the woman was patronizing her because of her sex, but Andy has yet to coddle her, not even while kicking her ass three ways to Sunday on a Russian cargo plane. Despite all that’s happened, Nile can respect that. 

  
  


Andy pats her on the shoulder and leads her into a cloister that has been renovated into a living room and kitchen combo. Paint and plaster are peeling off the walls, but the inhabitants don’t seem to mind. Nile can smell three others before she hears them. These must be the men Andy mentioned on the way into France…

  
  


Nile hovers in the doorway and soaks in the scene while Andy greets her team. There’s a tall, scruffy, blond alpha on the sofa and he’s tapping away on a beat-up Dell notebook. He nods absent-mindedly at Andy once, then double-takes when he notices Nile. Closing the laptop, his eyes crinkle with a thin-lipped smile (more of a cringe, Nile tries not to mirror it) and he awkwardly waves.

  
  


“Nile Freeman,” Andy says as she leans over the back of the couch and shakes the man’s shoulders playfully. “This is Booker. Over there are Joe and Nicky,” she jerks her thumb beyond herself where two men stand together in front of an ancient fridge. 

  
  


One is another alpha, although this one is beaming at her with a megawatt smile underneath a bushy beard. He strides forward with his hand outstretched. “Joe is me,” he says with a barely-there accent. So, not American then. “Very lovely to meet you, Nile Freeman!” Nile accepts his hand in a perfunctory fashion, but Joe doesn’t seem one to stand on ceremony. He enthusiastically shakes her hand, palm warm and brown eyes friendly to match. There’s something wholesome about the man that immediately puts Nile at ease. Like Andy, Joe is a unique alpha in that he eschews typical macho posturing. Her shoulders slowly release their tension as Joe encourages her further inside.

  
  


The kitchen is warm, and there’s something delicious cooking in the red pots on the stovetop. The last man busies himself with turning off the burners before calmly greeting her. He’s got some 1970’s era sideburns going on, plus a fairly large nose between two sharp cheekbones. A pair of silver earrings glint in the low light. Following Joe at a more sedate pace, he wipes his hands on his jeans and offers his hand. He’s an omega--a mated one from the smell of it. Nile knows better than to check his neck for a mark; she doesn’t want to be rude on the first impression. She expects a limp grip, but to her pleasant surprise his hand is firm and steady, just as confident and as calloused as Joe’s. 

  
  


A pause between them and then, “You’re an omega too!” The man, Nicky, says with a sweet, kind smile. His voice is thick with an Italian lilt. “ _ Finally! _ I’ve been stuck with all these alphas, it’s good to have more sensible people around.” 

  
  


Joe laughs, deep and molten gold, his arm clasping over his heart like he’s wounded. Nicky just smirks, and Nile finds herself doing the same. Must be an inside joke. Then again, it doesn’t take much imagination to put herself in Nicky’s shoes. She is (was) one of only four omegas in her mostly-alpha squad. The toxicity was palpable, and everyday was a constant struggle to prove her worth. 

  
  


Yeah…look how well  _ that  _ turned out. One rookie mistake and it cost her life, her family, her career, her friendships,  _ everything _ . 

  
  


Nile feels her eyes prickle before she can bottle it up again. She’s back to squaring off against an invisible threat (how do you combat  _ immortality? _ ) with all the confidence of a military professional. Somehow, Nicky sees right through her bullshit. His green eyes grow softer, and he nods his head towards the dinner table. “Come in, you must be hungry,” he says, “we just finished making dinner, will you join us?” 

  
  


The invitation stops her short. She doesn’t really have a choice, does she? Yet Nicky seems so sincere in his offer, he even waits for her to say yes. He then starts speaking Italian to the group at large, who all seem to understand him perfectly, and work effortlessly to execute his commands. Booker is busy pulling down plates and setting the table while Joe follows and scoops out portions of pasta. 

  
  


Nicky turns to Nile with a questioning look, but all she can do is shrug. She knows Spanish--could even get by on conversational French--Nile’s adrift attempting to parse Nicky’s rapid fire tongue, however. Just then, he smacks his forehead. “Oii, sorry Nile!” Nicky grimaces as if it’s his fault she’s not multilingual enough.

  
  


Andy steps forward with a fond eye roll, “I can take your things, Nile.” 

  
  


She glances down at her ‘things.’ It’s just her desert cammies with her name patch emblazoned over the pocket, folded and tucked underneath her arm. Nile swallows before passing the bundle over. To her credit, Andy handles them with care as she wanders away into a back annex partitioned by a windowed archway and a set of French doors. She’s left with just the literal shirt off her back and her combat boots. 

  
  


Nile, empty-handed, tip-toes her way to the dining room table. She’s unsure if it’s her rigorous training, her omega nature, or both, making her cautious of these odd strangers. Whatever the case may be, she sucks it up because her stomach is gurgling at her. 

  
  


Booker pulls the chair closest to the exit out and gestures at it for her to take. It’s a subtle way of giving her an easy out should the need to flee arise. It’s sweet of him, made even nicer when he doesn’t try to scooch her in after she sits. As far as alphas go, Nile is used to acts of chauvinism and aggression, but Joe and Booker aren’t arrogant jarheads, nor are they tripping over themselves to fawn after her. It’s refreshing enough to have her sit comfortably, even as Booker takes the chair right beside her. 

  
  


“Ah, basta!” Nicky whispers furtively. Nile watches him admonish Joe for using his fingers to swipe a bit of sauce straight out of the pot. Joe merrily dances away from the potholder swinging at him. Nicky still manages to swat him playfully a few times. The man swoops in and lands a kiss on Nicky’s cheek in apology. Oh, Nile thinks, so they’re mated to  _ each other _ . It seems obvious to her now. The way Nicky leans ever-so slightly into the kiss, how Joe’s fingers trail across his hip as he sets the pot back on the stove. 

  
  


“You get used to them,” Booker says with a lopsided smile and vague nod, “the sickening romance of it all.” It’s the first she’s heard him speak (French accent--Nile must be the odd one out after all). Despite his teasing words, there’s something about Booker’s tone that hints at the opposite of alright. Nile tucks that bit of information away for later as the other men join them. 

  
  


The four of them settle into silence as they dig in to eat. The pasta is simple yet tasty. They share glances over their meal, each one wondering who should initiate conversation. Nile’s curiosity wins, or maybe it's the bit of wine loosening her tongue enough to speak. Andy rejoins them at some point, scooping up a bowl and hovering like a scavenging bird. During the conversation, she’s startled to discover how old her new companions are. Booker and Napoleon Bonaparte? Joe and Nicky in the Crusades? 

  
  


And at the head of their team is Andy, who is so old she can’t even remember. It makes Nile’s head spin, and she leans back in her chair to soak it all in. Living forever…it’s _terrifying_.  Before this, she struggled conceptualizing where she’d be in ten years time. After the Marines, her foremost goal was earning her art history degree. She’d given no real thought to what came after  _ that _ \--married with kids, a mortgage on a house, or a tenured position at a university? She can’t begin to fathom the endless amount of centuries now spread out before her. 

  
  


Knowing they can eventually die for good is no real comfort either. Nile’s died twice, had bones broken and twisted outside of her own body. A gasp back to life, torn flesh stitching together as one mends a ripped seam. It’s bound to happen over and over again. Is she supposed to live like that, grow jaded about death until fate decides enough is enough and snuffs her from this world? A small part of her wants to ask how long Lykon lived for. She won’t, but it still itches at the back of her throat, begging to be asked. 

  
  


Andy’s eyes are hooded with an old hurt that she readily dulls with a bottle of vodka. Nile swallows her burning questions, for now, at least. Clearing his throat, Nicky suggests she try to sleep. It sounds good enough to her, even if she wonders how she’ll get her buzzing brain to cooperate with the plan. 

  
  


The two of them slip into the back room behind the kitchen. There’s a rickety bed shoved in one corner and two fold-away cots. It’s just the two of them, no alphas this time, and her body naturally relaxes in his presence. Nicky lays out a thermal sleeping bag for her on the last cot, plumping it up in a comforting fashion. It makes her smile because that’s exactly what her mom would do when she was a kid. Her talent for nest making kept all the nightmares at bay.

  
  


Oh God…her mom. Nile sits down heavily on the corner and rubs a hand over her face. What the hell is she going to do about her family? A tentative hand comes to rest on her shoulder, unsure of how it’ll be received. Nicky is a stranger, but he has been graciously welcoming so far. Nile genuinely appreciates the gesture, and lets herself lean into him for a moment. 

  
  


“For what it’s worth,” Nicky says, leaning over so he can look her in the eye. He looks just as tired as she feels. “We are glad to have you with us, Nile.” He wishes her a goodnight and leaves. Luckily, his calming scent still lingers. She’s always slept easier in the company of other omegas, first at her mom's side and then her baby brother's. All through boot camp and into the integrated barracks, Nile never realized how much she’d missed it until just now. 

  
  


It follows her as she lays down, Nicky’s scent sticking to the synthetic fabric. He smells like citrus, herbs, and a touch of gunpowder. Slipping into sleep is surprisingly easy--she’s absolutely _exhausted_.  There’s one last thought filtering through her mind before she passes out. 

  
  


As far as awkward first-meets go, this could have gone worse. 

  
  



End file.
